AN: Hey guys! So this is my first fanfic ever and I'm really excited to see where it goes! It takes place before Cap 2. I don't own any Marvel characters or the MCU. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Prologue

The sun dried the little girl's tears as she aimlessly wandered along the American coast of Miami. Her mind was a whirlpool of thoughts; ones she didn't even understand herself. Where is Mama? Papa? Papa was suppose to show her how to fly a kite today. The little girl scowled, thinking of the mermaid themed kite with silver ribbons sitting on her dresser at home. Oh, if Papa didn't keep his promise…

Her anger swiftly subsided as she called out again. "Mama?" But she was only met with the response of the ocean gushing a fresh wave along her feet. The little girl's lip quivered, and she fearfully wondered where her parents were. Did they leave her? Did they hate her?

She didn't want her parents to hate her.

All of the sudden, the ocean let out a roar and a new wave crashed onto her, so big that it engulfed her completely. The little girl's balance was off put immediately and she stumbled, then fell. The salty water surrounded her completely, strangling her. She choked, gasped, did anything she could for air. But the more she struggled, the harder the struggle became. Her vision went blank and she closed her eyes, because the water started to burn them. She clawed at the sand, trying to find anything she could grip for support. She failed, and ended up grabbing at nothing, because the sand just went along with her, sweeping her out to sea.

This is not what being a mermaid is like.

Her parents never taught her to swim—at least not yet. The little girl knew that they had planned to. For this very reason. But they hadn't, and now she was going to die.

Another promise her parents didn't keep.

The little girl tried screaming, but immediately regretted it when her lungs filled with water, and she started drowning even more. She thrashed and flailed, and felt herself slipping downwards. She panicked even more, because her parents taught her that the more downwards the sand gets, the deeper the ocean becomes.

The little girl's mind started to become fuzzy, and with every second, she struggled a little less. Her arms faltered, her face relaxed, her body stiffened. All she could think about was her parents. Why didn't they save her? Was this a punishment? Did they not love her anymore? Were they…

They little girl floated underwater motionlessly for a few seconds, eyes closed, until a pair of hands reached into the water, locked under her arms, and lifted her from the water, ruining her life forever.

When she heard the Red Drill, Katrina's body stiffened. She let out a noise a mixture between a groan and a huff. She sat up from her awkward laying position on her bed, and went to lace up her black boots. She grabbed her knife and sheathed it.

Katrina started to make her way down to the General's office, joining other fellow comrades as she did so. No one rushed; they knew it was pointless to do so. When Katrina and her comrades went into their first couple missions, the Red Drill had meant crisis to them. They had rushed into their General's office within a minute, only to learn that he was sending them into combat with frivolous objectives, such as blowing up a government energy department building simply because one of the owners had "lost a bet."

However, over the years, their missions had gotten more serious. Things like assassinating the Secretary of State to infiltrating S.H.E.I.L.D's data bases. That mission had been one of the more threatening assignments so far. Though missions against S.H.I.E.L.D had been carried out for years, Katrina had only been on one because they were so infrequent. And they were infrequent because they were all unsuccessful. S.H.I.E.L.D had extremely strong security measures. Katrina sometimes felt that the only way to bring them down would be infiltration from the inside.

Katrina didn't speak as her closest friend joined her, Aaron. Aaron was as close as a "friend" here could get. He arrived just two years after Katrina did, and Katrina and him had had a particular affinity with each other since then. Comrades weren't allowed to speak to one another unless it was for crucial matters or they were on missions, but nonetheless, Katrina and Aaron had always taken each other under their wing. Inside, they both secretly thought it was because they both had similar pasts. Both without families, waking up from an unconscious state while knowing nothing of what had happened previously. They had both been young children when they had been brought here, so they wouldn't have remembered anyways. They were the few lucky ones out of the assemblage. After years of high-level spying and observance, Katrina was sure that the people who either remembered their past from a young age, or came at an older age old enough to remember, had two options. One, be kept safe here but be put under permanent probation from speaking about their previous life—or two, resist and be executed. Katrina had witnessed new people that had been brought in who never made it to training.

Katrina and her fellow comrades' faces were grim as they entered their General's office. The door was left slightly ajar and a comrade pushed it open before they all entered in one precise line. They stood adjacent to the General's desk, backs facing the wall. The General let out a gruff grunt and stood up, straightening his back. He made his way to his comrades, and stood facing them with his arms behind his back.

"I have a new mission for you." This was no surprise. He had rung the Red Drill, which was he drill used to assemble comrades for new missions. "There is a warehouse up north in Dover which I need you to seize. The warehouse has access to nuclear explosives. I need you to get me those explosives."

Katrina's eyebrows slightly creased. Why are there nuclear explosives just sitting in a warehouse? Where would they go? And more importantly, why does the General need them?

Katrina quickly wiped these thoughts from her mind. It didn't matter. Her only priority was fulfilling the General's orders.

"I'm only sending fifty of our best comrades to go," the General continued. "It is crucial for this to go smoothly and obscurely, so sending everyone would cause too much disturbance. The main goal is to cause a diversion, so you can get into the warehouse, hack into the security systems, and get me those bombs." The General's voice became alarmingly aggressive, and although some of the newer comrades flinched, Katrina remained unaffected. She was used to his sudden belligerent change of attitude.

Katrina listened carefully to the General's further orders, and within minutes, Katrina, Aaron, and forty-eight other comrades were sent out the door and to the Deportation Room. The Deportation Room was basically just a large room that consisted of ample amounts of mission essentials. The supplies consisted of a wide range of guns, knives, grenades, bullet proof vests, poisons, crossbows…anything and everything.

Katrina knew she was best at hand-to-hand combat, so she decided to skip out on any crossbows or guns, except for her sleek shotgun that was given to her a few years ago. After several years of training and buildup of trust, every comrade received their own individual gun when they reached the level of a 'high status' and became High Statuses. So Katrina shoved her gun into her belt, and decided to throw in a few grenades and other small devices in her belt just in case.

With everyone's vests and belts on, Katrina and the rest of her comrades sat in the plane in silence. No one cared enough to speak. No one would even know what to speak about. Most of them had been torn from civilization for so long they didn't even know basic communication skills. Tension and awkwardness circulated throughout the plane.

The quietness gave Katrina a chance to sink into her thoughts. Nuclear bombs? Since when have people thought keeping nuclear bombs in such plain sight would be a smart idea? And since when have people been acting as if nuclear bombs give them some sort of power dynamic?

Well, nuclear bombs do give power, nonetheless. There's no denying that.

Power that's essentially useless. Power that can wipe out millions, billions at a time. You'd probably end up killing yourself or at least someone you care about.

It doesn't matter.

People being killed doesn't matter?

General's orders. Whatever he says, goes. It's not our concern on why he needs them.

That's not right.

It doesn't matter to you, okay? Shut the hell up and just do your job. It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

The mission was still dangerous though. One wrong step from anyone and millions, including them, could all be dead in seconds. Now Katrina knew she wasn't going to do anything that would jeopardize the plan. She didn't want to be cocky, but she was one of the best soldiers working for DAGGER. Nothing could really go wrong in her part.

And if things did, she didn't even want to think about what would be done to her. Not only her, actually, but any of them. The only time in history a major mishap had happened in one of DAGGER's missions was in 2007. Katrina hadn't been a High Status yet, she had just been a midlevel comrade, and even though it was years ago, she could still remember it very clearly.

A group of High Statuses had been sent out to Ukraine on a discrete trip. Katrina wasn't sure exactly why, soldiers weren't allowed to be given any information on missions that weren't theirs—but after some snooping, she figured out that it had to do with some high-tech, dangerous intel the Ukrainian government had been storing, and that the General wanted for himself.

Katrina wasn't sure whether the comrades had been successful, but she was sure they had done at least some damage, because Ukraine had sent out some of their own soldiers and mercenaries back to the DAGGER headquarters, following the comrades home. They killed dozens of people at the base, stole weapons and tech, bombed part of the building…the whole situation had been a mess. And by the end of it all, most of them had fled, but DAGGER had managed to capture five of them. Katrina remembered their names and faces perfectly; it was like they'd been burned into her mind.

Petro Balanchuk had been one of the younger ones. He was a short, stout little man, probably in his twenties, and had the nastiest smile one could imagine. Katrina remembered walking past all of them in the hallway that led to the east wing. She had been sent to fetch a spare crossbow because there hadn't been enough for their training session. Aleksei Demko was another Ukrainian soldier, nothing else much about him except for the fact that he had looked absolutely petrified the whole time he was here. Katrina had assumed he was new to the job.

The other three were mercenaries. None of them had Ukrainian names, let alone knew how to speak Ukrainian. There was Noah Lang, who was the big and burly one. Katrina tried not to think of him because all she could remember about him was the terrifying scar where his left eye had once been. It led her to think about what could happen to her on one of these missions. Especially this one, going into a warehouse full of bombs. One slipup and her left eye—and entire face—could be gone too. The second mercenary was Lance Hunter. Katrina remembered the most about him, probably because he was the one who spoke the most. He had a British accent and had quite a sarcastic attitude. He never answered questions properly, always rebutting a question with his own question. There was a point in the conversation where he just answered every single question with "ask Bob." That's what he would say. "Ask Bob, ask Bob." He was almost at the point of being shot. Katrina wondered whether he had a few screws loose in his head by the end of his trial. And last but not least was Alec Summer, a former American marine, who had become a mercenary later on.

A few days into their confinement, Katrina wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but someone didn't lock them in properly, or wasn't watching them carefully enough, because before anyone knew it, they had all skillfully managed to escape, without leaving any sign of where or how. The comrades that had been watching them were executed.

How did Katrina know all this? She was curious. She wanted to know about other people, people from the outside world. She was sick of being kept in this god forsaken facility. So after hours of planning, she had maneuvered her way into the vents leading into the room where their trials had taken place. Was it dangerous? Extremely. Could she have been caught? Definitely. Could she have been killed? Absolutely. Did she know this? For sure. Did she care? No.

When the plane landed, Katrina had been so deep in her thoughts that she didn't realize the rest of her comrades were getting out until Aaron elbowed her head. She blinked once, twice, then she stood up hastily and followed Aaron out the door and down the ramp. She looked around. The warehouse was big. Really big. The bombs must be hidden somewhere deep, like in the basement. She thought moment, then informed the rest of her comrades of a plan she just constructed in her thoughts a second ago. Her partners all nodded, listening carefully. Most of had been here for less of a time than Katrina, and even if they hadn't, they were less experienced. When no one else was there, she had to play the leadership role for them, telling them what to do. Everyone usually obliged, knowing that she knew best.

Katrina had assigned people to what she knew they were best at. She told their best shots to stand at the perimeter and shoot at anyone that tried to come in, she sent people who she knew were best at hacking to go find their intel rooms, and so on. She herself was going to scout the building and try to locate the bombs. And kill anyone who got in her way.

Katrina, Aaron, and about twenty other comrades snuck their way into the building, separating from the rest. They had gotten in through an emergency exit. Katrina found it a little strange how they had gotten in so easily. It was almost like someone had been expecting them…

Ridiculous.

If the warehouse looked big on the outside, it certainly didn't show it on the inside. Everything seemed like it was constricted, because the entire place was constructed of just walls as hallways. As they all entered they faced no room, just one long hallway that had different doors leading into their own rooms throughout it. Katrina didn't like the layout of the place at all. It made it harder for her to find things, harder to chase people, harder to escape in times where she didn't have much time. And it also made it a lot easier for the bombs to be hidden in a place she couldn't find them.

"Everyone split up," Katrina said authoritatively, her voice a powerful contrast against the silence of the hallway. "If you find something, or need help, you know what to do. Alert your ringer." Everyone who went on a mission was required to take a ringer before they left. Ringers were little devices that attached to everyone's belt and alarmed for various reasons. The ringers had little screens attached to them that showed them the layout of the area. If someone was in need, their location popped up on the screen, as well as a route on how to get there. The ringers were honestly a blessing. Katrina could remember countless times where the mission had been saved last minute because of a ringer.

The rest of the comrades nodded in agreement, and Katrina was first to part from the group. Basement, basement, basement…the bombs must be in the basement. As Katrina walked along the hallway, she noticed how eerily quiet it was. There was no one working, no one guarding…what kind of place was this? They stored nuclear weaponsand they weren't even monitoring the place? Something didn't seem right.

As Katrina walked, she passed a door labeled Security Room. Were there people in there? Katrina hesitated. Should she go in? She thought for a moment. If there were people in there, she should go in first. She should get them before they get her. So Katrina opened the door. And she was right; there were people inside. Each one pointing a gun directly at her.

Katrina wasn't even given a second to process anything, but she didn't need one. In a second she was charging at the people, and when one of them shot at her, she ducked, somersaulting while running, got back up on her feet again, and slammed right into several of the guards. They were all in the same blue uniform, so pinpointing them was easy. One of the guards swung at her, and she caught his hand, punching him square in the jaw. She kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying and slamming into the wall.

Katrina backed up against the wall so she could clearly see what she was up against. There was about five of them. Easy. They all had guns, so there wasn't any point in trying to take them each down by hand. Any one of them could shoot her from behind. So Katrina pulled out her gun, and shot at the closest guard. He immediately fell to the ground, and the other guards advanced on her, shooting in the process. Katrina ducked and twisted and avoided all the shots, but she grabbed a chair from next to her and hurled it as hard as she could at the guards. It hit one, sending him to the floor as well. All of this happened within seconds.

And within a minute, the rest of the guards were motionless on the floor as well. It was when the last one hit the floor when the alarms started blaring. Katrina cursed under breath. She ran out the room, and unlike a few minutes ago, the hallways were flooding with people. Some were comrades, fighting alongside one another, others were guards and people who worked there. Katrina decided she didn't have any time to lose, so she sprinted along the hallway, avoiding gunshots and having to attack some people along the way. Katrina hated the way the building was designed even more now. Every turn was more confusing than the last, every dead end making her want to rip her hair out.

All of the sudden, she heard a voice.

"We have to put an emergency lock down on the basement. If they're here to raid us, then we sure as hell can't let them get to the basement. You know what?" Two men rushed around the corner. Katrina quickly concealed herself behind one of the large bars attached to the ceiling. Her jaw clenched. He spoke about the basement. The man continued, stopping the other man with a hand on the arm. "I'll go to the basement, lock it down, and you head to the intel station on one eighty-four, and shut down access to all computers on the entire first three floors."

Katrina didn't see what happened next, but when the man started moving again, she quietly stepped from the corner. She was right. The bombs were in the basement. She just had to follow him. The man hurriedly scurried away, and Katrina followed him as discretely as she could. As she waited for him to turn the corner to follow him, it was then Katrina realized that there was no ruckus in this area of the building. They must be deep in. Where was he taking her? This warehouse did do a good job of concealing the weapons.

And at last, the man stopped, opened one of the doors, and started descending down a flight of stairs. Katrina breathed a sigh of relief through her nose. She walked over to the edge of the door way and peeked through the door to make sure he was fully downstairs. Then she started descending down the stairs herself.

Once she stepped into the basement, she looked around. It was quiet, unlike upstairs. She stepped away from the stairs and started walking. Unlike the rest of the building, there weren't many hallways here. Currently she was in a big cement room with dozens of different pipes attached to the walls and ceiling. And there were boxes. A lot of large, wooden boxed neatly stacked on top of each other throughout the room. They were all nailed shut.

This must be it.

Katrina walked through the maze of boxes and crates, until she stepped through to another corner of the room. She didn't expect another person to be there waiting for her. Katrina's breathing stopped.

Were her eyes deceiving her?

She had heard stories about this person, seen articles about this person, seen interviews on this person... They were a living legend to everyone within the intelligence community.

Katrina's mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, some confused, some shocked, some amazed. And when the person smiled, Katrina realized that this wasn't her mind playing tricks on her. No…this person was here, in the flesh, standing right in front of her.

The Black Widow.